


Blind Side

by larvae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Body Horror, Consensual Violence, Established Relationship, Eye Trauma, Gore, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Multiple, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Skullfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larvae/pseuds/larvae
Summary: Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!For your love is better than wine;Loki fucking the hole that Hela left in Thor's face.





	Blind Side

**Author's Note:**

> Four months ago I wrote and edited this with multiple betas but was too unhappy with it to post anywhere. Time has passed and I like it again.

_I don’t know if I’m quite so fond of this idea_ , thought Thor from his knees.

“Oh, hush, brother,” came the maddeningly smug response from above, “you were championing it moments ago.”

Ah, so he’d said that out loud, then. Always a mistake to talk too much when he was drunk; he almost always tended to lose control of his mouth. Always a mistake to talk to _Loki_ too much when he was drunk; he absolutely always tended to lose control of his mouth.

But the sweet honey-wine had been spiced to perfection with the fruits and herbs of the season it undoubtedly would have been on Asgard had it not been blown to pieces beneath their feet. Two tankards of that and he was anybody’s. Three, and he was Loki’s alone. Three and a half before those delicately manicured fingers were prying his eyepatch away from his warm, rosey face, already showered with cloyingly sweet kisses.

Gods, he had _missed_ him; his inviting reach and the indulgent affections of his mouth, tender and greedy at his chest, neck, and jaw. Twice he’d run his fingers through Thor’s newly shorn hair and let out an irritated little growl, like the chirp of a disturbed house cat. It had made Thor press his hands harder into his hips, pull him further onto his lap. He liked Loki just on the edge of frustration, liked balancing him there until he was close to deciding the game wasn’t fun anymore.

But in his eagerness he’d been unwary, and Loki’s drunken blush had disappeared awfully quickly from his gaunt face when the time had come to be less malleable. Thor chastised himself for a fool as he watched his brother’s slender fingers fumble with the tie of his britches. They lacked a degree of their usual deftness, but his sickle sharp grin was wicked as ever; far from the girlish tangle of limbs he’d been in Thor’s arms before this whole mess had been suggested.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’d live to regret your bright ideas,” Thor slurred as he shuffled forward. He closed the distance between them and reached both hands out to frame Loki’s hips, resting his weight on them as his heavy head spun in drunken circles.

“As I recall,” Loki purred as Thor undid his britches for him with fumbling, ungainly hands, “this was your suggestion.”

He rested a hand on the crown of his brother’s head as Thor wrapped his fingers around his already stiffening cock. His golden curls had been shorn, to Loki’s unexpectedly great disappointment. But no matter, he felt like being gentle anyway, softly running his thumb up and down along the downey soft texture of his estranged brother’s close cropped hair. The pad of his thumb ran across a scar he remembered giving him aeons ago, during an unfortunate jousting match in a courtyard bathed in cold autumn light. Loki’s playsword had found its unintended mark when Thor turned at the last moment of his swing, distracted by something of little consequence. Perhaps a nursemaid calling them in, or a bird twittering from overhead. Regardless of what had stolen his attention, Loki’s wooden sword had won it back, cracking against the boy’s skull and showering its owner in a glittering spray of blood. They’d both wept over it bitterly.

“You seem distracted,” Thor’s right hand slowed as his voice pulled Loki from his reverie. The Trickster angled his chin down to meet his heavy lidded eyes and his smile seemed… softer, somehow. Like the blurring corners of Thor’s vision, it was dipped in comforting warmth.

“Now who’s distracted?” Loki chided, pushing his hips into Thor’s loosening grip and dragging his hand from the crown of his head to cup his palm around his jaw and stroke a thumb along his cheek. He just barely brushed the edge of the newly charred flesh around his brother’s empty black eye. His cock jumped at the alien sensation, at the way Thor’s soft expression grew tense for a moment.

“Shhhhhhhhhh,” Loki soothed, running his thumb again along his brother’s cheek bone, feeling his fingers digging hard into his hips, “you poor wounded thing, I’ve frightened you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Thor growled, struggling to hold his brother’s gaze from his unflattering angle.

“I’ll leave that task to you, then,” Loki said gently, moving his thumb to graze the rim of Thor’s right socket. The blackened crust caked over the surface of his wound was rough and jagged; it crackled under Loki’s thumb like parchment hastily saved from a hearth. The tip of his thumb skirted just over the lip of the empty hole in his brother’s handsome face and drew a shiver up his spine, “Go on, tell me I’m pretty.”

“Not from this anGHHHAA,” Thor’s retort was cut short by Loki rather unceremoniously jabbing his dick into his newly cauterized wound. He was a god, this didn’t… hurt, exactly. But it felt a lot like having a dick in your eye socket, which on a scale of one to ten hurt about as bad as having a _dick in your eye socket_.

Thor ground his teeth together and dug his fingers harder into Loki’s hips, which bobbed gently towards and away from his face.

Loki, on his part, wasn’t having much fun either, past the initial animalistic yowl he’d gotten from the disgruntled recipient of his sincere affection. His brother’s eye socket was splendid on display but shallow and unwelcoming in practice. He’d sheathed himself in worse, but the thought brought as much comfort as the low grit sandpaper chaffing against his cock.

With a defeated wince, he pulled his rapidly softening dick out of Thor’s socket. The look of half blind fury on his elder brother’s face made the whole thing worth it.

“Have you had enough of your ill advised game?” Thor growled up at him, moving to bring his right hand over the violated hole in his face. The pleasant rose colored haze three tankards of well spiced honey wine had tinted this scenario with had thoroughly dissipated. It was stupid and awkward and well on its way to giving him an ocular migraine.

“Not quite yet,” said Loki tersely, and rammed his middle and index finger into the halfway consummated wound.

Thor screamed in earnest as he felt Loki’s digits curl, his painted nails raking through the black crust that had barely cooled over his burnt skin. His fingers scissored open and closed against the tender flesh of his mangled eyelid, knuckles knocking against the rim of his socket. The hole was quickly becoming slick with blood, spilling like molten gold over the right side of Thor’s face. His other eye welled with tears and he squeezed it shut, grinding his teeth together and growling low in his throat. He kept his right hand braced against Loki’s hip, nudging his trousers down to press his thumb into the hollow below his Adonis’ belt. His left hand he brought down to loosen the tie on his own trousers and pull out his achingly hard cock. This, too, he had missed, the brunt of Loki’s violence honed into a personal vice, like Garmr bedded in silks as a kept pet.

Loki felt something rubbery snag against his nail and pull taught, stretching out for a moment against his bending digit before snapping with a wet, defeated sound. Had that been what remained of his brother’s optic nerve? The last useless little nub that hadn’t fried under their fallen sister’s wrath? Or just an odd bit of unnamed sinew melted into the blackened hole she’d left in the golden child’s face? 

Loki felt an unexpected pang of jealousy in his chest when he thought of her. Hela had been in their lives for such a brief and turbulent time, and she’d left a mark on his sweet brother’s face for the world to see. She’d carved him into the Allfather’s image, and Loki, who’d been at his side, in his bed, who had slipped in reality and in metaphor between his lower ribs to pierce his heart; what mark had he left on him? Even now the tears streaking down his face and the wet spot forming at the front of his trousers were temporary, they lasted only in this moment they created together. Even the shining blood on his own hands was ephemeral; as it had always been between them. No sin great enough to finalize the rift, no amount of blood spilt was enough to stain.

Loki extracted his fingers from Thor’s eye and brought them to his lips, leaving a shinning gold print in the middle of his mouth. He swiped the ichor off his lips with the tip of his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the taste. He opened them slowly and met Thor’s half-gaze, held determined and steady through the blood and the tears. As he watched his handsome face contort in pain, Loki’s razor smile cut through the stoney planes of his face.

He lowered his hand down slowly toward his brother and pointed the blood slicked digits towards his mouth. Obediently, Thor parted his lips. He slid them into Thor’s mouth, letting their tips curl back to scratch the root of his tongue. There was no sound of protest at that, and so Loki slid them back out before adding his ring finger. Thor kept his mouth lax and patient, cleaning his own blood off his brother’s hands. He tried to keep pace with the ins and outs of Loki’s fingers with his own hand wrapped around his cock. Thor watched Loki’s grin widen as slick trails of spittle followed his fingers in and out of his mouth. He knew he liked this, how useless it was. The point of the game was to get Thor frustrated, making him face Loki’s maddening smile and beg to take his cock in his mouth and bring this teasing to an end. But through the years it had gotten harder to frustrate the god of thunder, who quickly found his brother’s smile to be satisfaction enough.

Loki withdrew his hand after a few more jabs at the back of Thor’s throat, satisfied that the blood he’d minded less than the spit was properly washed away — he had always preferred the former as aftermath of violence. He picked up Thor’s chin and drew his thumb gently across it, looking down at his tear streaked face with loving admiration. He was brutish and frustratingly handsome no matter how you sliced it, but like this? Laid low and pinned down, bloodied and pliant and eager to take more of a beating? It was enough to leave a man undone.

Thor moved his chin out from tender grip of Loki’s thumb and index finger, turning his head to the side to spit into his left hand before bringing it back to his cock, already beading with precum at its head.

“Shall we finish the game we started?” Loki cooed, leaning his weight into Thor’s unoccupied right hand, still resting possessively on his left hip.

Thor sank down further onto his knees and craned his head back to meet Loki’s eyes, “I don’t believe we ever shall.”

Loki grabbed the base of Thor’s skull with his left hand and maneuvered his cock back into his empty eye with his right, “Oh how poetic,” he said under his breath, drowned out by Thor’s grunts of shock and protest, “how perfectly reflective.”

The socket was still shallow, but clearing the flakey blackened scabs and letting hot shimmering blood pool at its base and coat its interior had certainly improved things. Loki tightened his grip on the back of Thor’s head, working to keep it steady as he fucked the new and improved hole in his face. A dozen half baked vulgar one liners about fucking with his head were left unsaid. Despite himself, Loki let out a breathy whine as he felt the first bead of sweat drip down from between his shoulder blades and the tension build low in his abdomen. A Sakaaran curse escaped his lips as the tension grew, his body straining towards a point of want in the middistance. He’d been without this raw knife-point intimacy for too long. Who else in all nine realms would lay themselves bare before him like this? Sweet and willing and playing at resentment, open to all the pain and subjugation he could bestow? He’d had his fill of adoration and worship moored in the Grandmaster’s palatial halls, this was the frayed nerve endings and open wounds of unending devotion that he’d pined for. He came suddenly, letting out an ugly grunt to match Thor’s final noise of protest at the head of his cock ramming into the back of his eye socket.

Loki sank to his knees, nestling into the space between Thor’s splayed thighs and pulling him into a kiss. His mouth still tasted like blood.

He moved from Thor’s lips to his jaw to the sticky right side of his face, lapping at the quickly drying mix of cum and ichor on his cheek. He dutifully cleaned up the mess he’d made, all the while whispering high praise, sweeter than honeyed wine. _Well done, Thor, how stoic. You did so well for me. I love you. I’ve missed you. You’re even more handsome, now, you brute. Did you really think I wouldn’t come back with you? I’ve never stopped dreaming of you._

“I know.”

“I know you know, you intolerable beast.”

Thor took Loki’s face in his hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, soft and gentle until the metallic tang had been extinguished from both their lips. He pressed their foreheads together and ran a hand through Loki’s long dark hair, resting it at the back of his neck. His thumb grazed the scab left from the Sakaraan shock collar that had been embedded just to the left of his carotid artery, leaving Thor to wonder if it had been his or the Grandmaster’s device that had been stuck on that side. Loki moved to plant a kiss on his brow bone, and Thor didn’t flinch when he approached his tortured socket. Who else in all nine realms could he trust at his blind side?


End file.
